The news of Pope John Paul II’s death was heartbreaking. It depressed me, but not because I am a Christian. I once was, but I no longer adhere to the Christian faith, and I will explain why in a moment. However, I would like to present my condolences to the 1.1 billion Catholics across the world on behalf of all the homeless.
The Son of God that John Paul II represented as head of the Roman Catholic Church was homeless during most of his adult life. Yes, Jesus was homeless, and I am not making this up. The 18th chapter of Book of Matthew says, “the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”
Pope John Paul II stressed the homelessness of Jesus. In his 1996 message during Lent, the Pope said: “The Gospel call to be close to Christ who is homeless is an invitation to all… to examine their own lives and to treat their own lives and to treat their brothers and sisters with practical solidarity by sharing their hardships. By openness and generosity, as a community and as individuals, Christians can serve Christ present in the poor, and bear witness to the Father’s love.”
If a religious leader whose funeral was attended by 4 million people tells us that the savior of the world was homeless, then why would the world look at the homeless as despicable, disgusting beings who have no place in society? Why would the world not save us when Jesus, who lived and died homeless, was the redeemer of mankind?
John Paul II said, “Jesus identified himself with the homeless – ‘I was a stranger and you welcomed me’ (Matt. 25:35) – and taught that charity toward those in this situation will be rewarded in heaven…It is from God’s own love that Christians learn to help the needy and to share with them their own material and spiritual goods.”
Homeless people should take pride in the fact that one of their own is worshipped by billions of people around the world.
I said earlier that I am no longer a Christian, and the irony in that is that I lost my faith as a result of becoming homeless. My descent destroyed my whole concept of religion and faith.
I became confused about God, Jesus, and religion because it seemed like the more I prayed, the worse things got for me. Maybe I became overwhelmed by anger and despair, or, as many Christians may conclude, I just did not have enough faith.
I was born to Catholic parents by stopped going to church at an early age because of an incident that impacted my experience with religion. I attended Mass with my devout Catholic father every Sunday until he smacked me over something trifling one morning before church. That day, our priest’s homily was focused on tolerance, forgiveness, and kindness. It was ironic to me that my father did not treat me according to what was preached at Mass. So, I decided not to follow my father to church anymore because I saw hypocrisy in that whole act.
I converted to Seventh-Day Adventism when I was around 11 years old. My mother supported my conversion. I was a disturbed child, and she approved of any religion that might change that. I remember being so zealous about Seventh-Day Adventism that I tried to convert my mother. I was taught, through Sabbath school and other Bible classes, that the Catholic Church was Babylon the Great, and the Pope was the antichrist and bore the mark of the beast, 666, foretold in the Book of Revelation.
My mother would not listen to me bash her church. She used to tell me, “What you believe is what you believe, and what I believe is what I believe. Respect what I believe, and I will respect what you believe.”
My mother believed people should choose whatever religion was right for them. What mattered to her was the positive impact of that religion on the individual. Her attitude taught me the virtue of tolerance.
I have just recently embraced what my mother tried to teach me long ago. It took becoming homeless, like Jesus was, to understand how to accept differences in all of us, from race to religion to economic status. I have learned to appreciate Pope John Paul II for his kindness and compassion for the poor, regardless of his denomination.
Being homeless has taught me that destitution cannot take away dignity. John Paul II was a man of compassion who not only showed concern for the poor’s lack of possessions but also for their dignity. He said that “relieving the sufferings of the many modern Cavalries which clamor for your attention and help means not only working to alleviate immediate suffering, but also, in the light of the Gospel, striving to foster self-respect and solidarity among the poor themselves.
Helping the homeless does not mean simply feeding them like pigeons, as one can witness every Sunday at McPherson Square, where the homeless flock like birds to any food truck pulling over by the park. To help the homeless is to help them recover human dignity, to help them help themselves and not just develop a dependency on handouts.
I will conclude with one more quote from John Paul II, who said that a Christian “cannot escape into another dimension, ignoring the tragedies of his era, closing his eyes and heart to the anguish that pervades life. On the contrary, it is he who, although not ‘of’ this world, is immersed ‘in’ this world every day, ready to hasten to wherever there is a brother in need of help, a tear to be dried, a request for help to be answered. On this will we be judged!”
May the soul of Pope John Paul II rest in peace.
